


'Till You Make It

by buttchester



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Gen, M/M, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttchester/pseuds/buttchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may have started when his older sister dressed him in her old hand-me-downs as a joke when he was a toddler, or when he first smeared his mother’s red lipstick over his lips for a play when he was in primary school – he really can’t pin down the reason that had led him to the place he found himself in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Till You Make It

**Author's Note:**

> I forget how this was brought on, but we needed a fic where we see someone starting out with crossdressing before it becomes something permanent. I've had this mostly finished sitting in my folder. So I finished it and had it looked over by the ever lovely Appia and now here it is!

It may have started when his older sister dressed him in her old hand-me-downs as a joke when he was a toddler, or when he first smeared his mother’s red lipstick over his lips for a play when he was in primary school – he really can’t pin down the reason that had led him to the place he found himself in. It could be blamed on the fact that he could no longer continue sneaking his sister’s clothes from her closet now that she was moving out. Absolutely no way.

Which is what led him to the female clothing store in a district he rarely frequents.

His hands were shaking as he walked through the automatic glass door into the brightly lit store. He pulled his cap lower over his forehead to hide his eyes, his long black hair puffing out from under it. Quickly scanning the store, he spotted a rack that seemed like a good place to start.

Hunching over the rack, he skimmed to find the right size. His fingers gently brushed the denim, cotton and poly-cotton that decorated the rack. He stopped on a pretty ruffled number and gulped. His hands shook as he thumbed the tag over to see the size and price.

His sigh of relief was interrupted by a cheery “can I help you find anything?”

Stumbling away in fright, he caught himself on a shelf and put a hand over his racing heart.

“Jesus,” he heaved, and turned to look at the employee.

She was petite and very pretty, well dressed in a blouse and a flowery patterned circle skirt – everything he aspired to look like.

“Um, are you all right?” She was hesitant and he felt really bad that he worried her.

“Y-yeah, sorry. I was just-,” he made a strange circle motion around his head in explanation. His eloquence was currently unavailable.

She smiled in relief and put a hand on the skirt that he had been checking out. “Shopping for a present?”

Calmed, he nodded. “My sister, she – she likes stuff like this. When – when she’s not in her business clothes.”

“Do you know her size?” The girl pulled it off the rack with a clack of the hanger and he nodded too enthusiastically before coughing and trying to stay nonchalant.

“Y-yeah. This size. I – I do the laundry at home.” He cringed at the waver in his voice as he tried to keep lying to a minimum.

She led him to another rack that had even cuter skirts and some dresses as well. Immediately, he began to run his fingertips over the well-starched clothing in reverence over the beautiful patterns on the fabric.

“I’m guessing this is definitely fitting of her taste if you lit up so fast,” she commented, and he fought to dim the brightness of the excitement on his face, “Oh no, it’s fine. It’s not often we get boys in here wholeheartedly trying to find something that would suit their recipient!”

He curled his chin down to his chest and gave her a shy smile.

“Now, before I start throwing things at you, what is your limit?”

He opened his mouth to respond before he looked back at one dress that was calling his name. He hesitated in touching the price tag, but he flipped it over and breathed heavily in despair.

“Lower than this. I only have about three quarters of this in my pocket,” he said truthfully.

“Then I will show you all of the sale items. We should have a few things that follow this style, but they’ll be last seasons – hopefully we’ll find things in this size.”

Relief flooded his heart. “That sounds great; thank you.”

The girl, whose nametag read Youngji, was very helpful and didn’t really comment when he pressed the clothing up against his body in attempt to see if it went with his complexion (he told her that he was almost identical to his sister in everything but gender, height, and personality) and making faces when something didn’t appeal to him. He knew his face was pink the entire time but he couldn’t help but be excited over finding something perfect.

He settled on the light pink ruffled skirt he had originally found, as the sales rack had been too picked over, and he left with his purchase clutched tightly to his chest with the largest grin on his face. Youngji waved him off and told him to come visit again if he needed help with anything else.

The bus ride back home was torture, but he managed to not royally piss off the people around him with his constant fidgeting, so he considered it a success. He ran from the bus stop, up to his home’s front door, and straight into his bedroom.

He shed his pants as soon as his door clicked shut – his legs clear of hair, but dappled with random cuts from his carelessness in shaving – and the skirt was slipped on to sit on his hips where he zipped it up. He looked in his mirror on his closet door but sighed when he realised his shirt ruined the image he was going for. Tugging the completely wrong piece of clothing off, he stood in front of the mirror to inspect the skirt. His flat chest made him cringe and he wrapped his arms around his torso, trying to focus on the skirt.

It was a bit awkward to only be wearing bottoms and nothing else, but the ruffles gave him the illusion of having hips, and a plump swell of bum. It even hid the tell-tale bump of his genitals better than the white skirt he had worn at a school event. What it couldn’t do, was actually change his body to fit the gender that the skirt suited best.

All in all, he deemed the purchase a score and, compared to the rush of dressing, he was more reverent in taking it off. He hid it in his dirty laundry basket after cutting the tags off and was glad he was the one in charge of laundry.

The thrill of the skirt eventually wore off and he was left in a pile of lanky limbs wondering why life was so cruel in making him so strange. Pondering on it made him overanalyse to the point where he started to think of all the things wrong with the skirt – it didn’t go well with his skin tone, it drew attention to his awkwardly broad shoulders, there was definitely a bump where his crotch was, the delicate ruffles clashed with his wild hair – silly, petty things that made no sense.

Instead of dwelling on it, he got up from his bed and grabbed his basket to go do laundry. He checked the time as he stuffed his clothes into the washer and put in the soap. He had plenty of time before his parents would be home to wash and then hang the clothes up to dry. He patted his pocket and pulled out the change he had left. Counting it, he realised he could buy the cheap eyeshadow palette he had seen in the one store down the street and get a stick of lipstick with enough left over for a bread.

With a cheer, he rushed to the entryway. He almost ran head first into the door in his enthusiasm, but he caught himself as he slipped on his sneakers.

He was less embarrassed to buy the makeup and bread than he was to buy the skirt, but the cashier obviously just thought he was sent to buy them for his mother, and got a snack for his trouble.

“Such a filial son, Chanyeol,” the old woman crooned as she reached out to pat his head. He chuckled nervously.

“I try my best,” he said, gathering his purchases to push into his sweater pocket and opened the bread. “Bye, Ms. Choi!”

“Tell your mother I’ll be by tomorrow for supper!” she called after him and he promised he would.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

It was a couple of weeks of secretly wearing his skirt and trying different combinations of eye shadow before he was caught digging in his sister’s closet for a shirt to go with the skirt. He had been humming a tune as he was bent over a drawer of neatly folded shirts. His hips swayed to the tune and his legs moved along too.

“Chanyeol?”

The sound of his name being uttered made him freeze before slowly peeking over his shoulder to see his sister’s stunned face.

“That’s not my skirt.”

He gulped, his throat and eyes burning and his heart racing, standing up straight and turning to face Yura.

“It’s mine,” he choked out, his head low as he stared at the floor. He didn’t want her to see his makeup.

“Chan– Chanyeollie – is... is that makeup on your face?”

The burning was spreading now.

“Yes.”

She stepped forward; Chanyeol flinched.

“It looks-,” she said, stopping from continuing the sentence to press a hand to his cheek. “You’re supposed to blend.”

Chanyeol felt something break and the burning overflowed, trailing down his cheeks as he let out a sob as he filled in the implied sentence.

“I’m sorry,” he let out, crushing the shirt he had in his fists.

“You- you like this?” She seemed a bit stunned at the discovery, but she wasn’t calling him bad names.

He nodded in answer and sniffed harshly. He let one hand go of the shirt to wipe his cheeks. This was not the way he thought he would tell someone about his strange interests. He had hoped he could have gathered enough money for a dress and eyeliner and have more practice and his own place before he could sit down with his parents to explain himself and show them. Yura was such a pretty girl that Chanyeol was firm in the belief that he could make just as convincing a girl as her. He just needed the time. Her finding him like that just cut that time to a very small fraction. Now he’d have to talk before he was ready to show off.

“You have to tell Mom, okay? Just- just not now. Not when you’re trying to put the wrong shirt with that skirt and haven’t learned how to blend your makeup. Haven’t you learnt _anything_ from seeing my fashion?”

Chanyeol let out a wet laugh and he tried to catch the bubble of saliva that popped from running down his chin. When he pulled his hand away, he saw the smear of red on the heel of his palm and felt another sob leave his mouth.

He had perfected his lipstick not even ten minutes ago, this _wasn’t right_. She placed a hand on his bare shoulder and led him over to her desk cum vanity and sat him on her chair. The shirt was pried from his grasp, and seconds later was replaced with V-neck tee and a grey cardigan.

The tops were put on for him (even a bra with folded socks was placed onto his upper body), and his ruined makeup was cleaned up with a wipe.

“Let’s do something fun today, Yeollie. Let your big sister make you pretty like she did all those years ago, okay?”

“Okay,” he sniffed, watching as she pulled open her makeup drawer.

Chanyeol tried to watch how his sister applied the layers of makeup as best he could with his eyes constantly being forced shut. Eventually he gave up trying to watch because Yura began to explain how she was putting it on. Those online picture tutorials had nothing on Yura’s explanations on how to really make his eyes look their utter best. No one else could know better than someone who shared a similar face with him.

“You can open your eyes, Yeollie.” Two hands were pressed onto his shoulders and Chanyeol’s eye fluttered open.

“We just have to fix your hair, but-,”

“It’s perfect,” Chanyeol whispered as a hand stilled in his untamed mane. He looked so pretty even with his hair only pinned back by the fringe. Curling in on himself, he mentally scolded himself into not crying and ruining Yura’s hard work.

“Stand up and let’s have a look-see, okay?”

Chanyeol shook as he was brought to his feet. Yura led him by the hand to her full-length mirror and positioned him right in front of it.

“Look how pretty my little sister is.”

A choked cry left his mouth at those words. She used to say them jokingly, but the sincerity in her voice made Chanyeol’s urge to cry grow.

He really did look pretty. His lips were a shiny pink and the brown eyeliner added more affect to the subtle, nude palette applied to his eyelids. His red nose could barely be seen through the BB cream, but it didn’t matter because the rest of his face with glowing. It looked way better than the gaudy blue eyeshadow and red lipstick he had on before.

“Noo-,” he started.

“Hush.” She held a finger up by his lips, careful not to get any gloss on herself. “I think when you’re dressed like this, it’s more appropriate to call me ‘Unnie’.”

“Unnie, I-,” he paused, “thank you. Thank you so much.”

Yura smiled brightly up at him and held his hand tighter than before. With the tip of his finger, Chanyeol dabbed under his eyes as a few tears leaked out.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

 “Chanyeol!”

“Coming, Mom!”

Chanyeol skipped out of her room hastily whilst in the middle of doing up her dress. She entered the kitchen in a flurry of curls, and turned around to put her back towards her mother.

“Can you zip me up, Mom? I can’t do it,” she said as she pulled all of her hair forward, leaving the zipper clear.

“Yes, dear.” The zipper went up and Chanyeol shimmied to settle the dress’ cinched waist at the right spot. Hopping around, she spread out her arms and smiled.

“How do I look?”

Chanyeol’s mother gave her a quick once over, and replied, “That boy won’t be able to speak; you’re so pretty.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Chanyeol pulled her mother into a hug. When they let go of each other, Chanyeol skipped back to her room to gather up her purse and she was set to leave. She said her ‘see you later!’ as she hopped to put on her pretty flats and was out the door.

A bus ride later and a few blocks of walking, Chanyeol arrived at the cafe appointed as the meet up place for the blind date. She looked around curiously as she stood under the awning, fidgeting as she watched the passers-by.

“Um, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol whipped around and nearly hit the small man in the face with her purse.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she hurriedly said as she bowed her head in apology, long locks floating around her face, unattractively covering it as she stood up. Spitting, she pulled her hair away and tried to tame it before abashedly smiling at the guy who was covering up a smile on his face with his hand.

“Hi, I’m Park Chanyeol. Sorry... for almost... y’know...” She trailed off awkwardly, feeling really strange next to such a short guy.

“Hi, Chanyeol, I’m Do Kyungsoo and that was quite all right – although it was probably one of the most interesting first meetings I’ve had,” Kyungsoo said as he held out his hand and they exchanged small bows and a handshake.

“Hi, Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol smiled shyly as he held on to her hand.

“Shall we go then?”

“Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I should say that this does eventually lead to Kyungsoo and Chanyeol dating more, and Chanyeol having to tell Kyungsoo about herself and how she's trans, but that's for another story.


End file.
